


The Ballad of the Commander and the Champion

by Saiya_tina



Series: A Comedy of Assholes (Rhapsody, etc.) [38]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, and part of the Rhapsody verse, based in Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:42:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3677958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saiya_tina/pseuds/Saiya_tina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of sequel to Rhapsody in Ass Major, featuring my Anton Hawke, the youngest brother of Cormac and Artemis Hawke.</p><p>Haven had been destroyed and still no letter from Cullen. Anton decides to pay the Inquisition a visit, purely for business. (And to smack a certain ex-Knight Captain of Kirkwall up the head.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of the Commander and the Champion

**Author's Note:**

> While this story is part of the Rhapsody verse, it takes place after the main story. Since Mav and Penbrydd are still writing it, it is likely that certain elements of this story may not match up with their future chapters, so consider it a bit of an AU. There are minor spoilers for Anton's fate in Rhapsody, mainly regarding his titles.
> 
> It's my first time writing for Anton since Penbrydd and Mav have been treating him extremely well in Rhapsody, so I wouldn't be surprised if Anton's characterization is a little different than what has been seen in Rhapsody so far! But I assure you, they've written the character better than I think I ever could! Hope you enjoy the story!

After meeting the Inquisitor, the first thing Anton did was find out where Cullen was hiding. Varric didn’t even bother to hide his shit-eating grin as he pointed at the Commander’s quarters across Skyhold and Anton stuck his tongue out at him even if he couldn’t hide his eager grin. Getting to his Quarters was a little hard, what with all the soldiers and scouts walking about, but he’d had a lot of practice in Kirkwall avoiding the guards and thugs alike. He heard Cullen’s voice through the door and waited outside for the other person to leave before entering the room and closing the door behind him.

“Whatever it is, make it quick,” Cullen said without looking up from the reports he was studying.

“And here I thought you liked to take things slow,” he drawled. Nothing could have stopped his burst of laughter when Cullen’s head whipped up, eyes wide and jaw agape as he dropped the reports from sheer shock. “But by all means, never let it be said I didn’t know how to take orders.”

“Anton!” Cullen said. “But I thought you- but I didn’t- wha- _how?!_ ”

“A mutual friend sent me a letter telling me about this nasty business you’ve been up to dealing with one of the many people who tried to kill me,” Anton said, walking over to the desk and sweeping papers away from the edge to sit on it. “And since I’ve been receiving _no word_ from my husband who left me panicking about whether he made it out of a town that was _wiped off the map_ , I decided to drop by and lend my expertise on the matter.”

“I didn’t- well, forgive me if sending a letter wasn’t the first thing that came to mind while we were trudging through the snow,” Cullen said, but there was no heat to it. “And I would have written…eventually.”

“By which you mean until I sent you a letter asking what was wrong, which you would have never seen since the place I sent it to _doesn’t exist anymore_ ,” Anton’s lips pursed, the only outward show of irritation. “I thought you were dead.”

Now Cullen looked abashed. He sighed and rubbed the back of his head, one of his tells that showed when he was feeling guilty or nervous. “I…should have written to you. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Anton said. “Now that we’re done with the nasty stuff, care to show me around? Specifically your quarters?”

“Ah, this is it,” Cullen said. “I have a bed upstairs, but it doesn’t really have a ceiling….or four walls.”

“Still better than your Templar quarters. While I don’t mind an audience, not many people know I’m here and I rather that remain the case. Save that for when it’s darker. What about a coat closet?”

Cullen grinned, “That, however, we have plenty of.”

 

By the end of the day, the barracks were filled with whispers about the Commander of the Inquisition’s Army and the elusive Champion of Kirkwall being found in a coat closet. The maid that stumbled on them was apparently ordered by said Commander to have some extra clothes sent to his quarters and to shut the door on her way out.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

Anton was familiar with creeping out of bedrooms without waking the occupants before. A result of a lifetime spent sharing a bedroom with siblings who protested at the slightest hint of movement before they were ready to get up. Then a few years of sharing a bed with a willing warm body. But he’d never felt such a strong desire to never get out of bed before. Not even when he’d had a proper bedroom after a year of itchy cots or the night after he'd wed the man of his perverted dreams. If anyone interrupted, the knife that would meet them would be a deliberate move rather than an action born of instinct. Cullen was probably a large factor in that. Waking up with his warmth against his back was something Anton could quickly get addicted to. It was infinitely better than the dog.

He made a mental note to speak to the Inquisition’s quartermaster about some better boots that didn’t require so much time to get into. It was nice of the Inquisitor to provide some spare clothing until he could get some of his own that weren’t armor, but who in the Maker’s name needed these many bloody laces? Did the Inquisitor feel some need to ensure his shoes didn’t fall off? Well, it probably would be bad if they fell off while he was running from Corypheus. Maybe he should just start wandering about in his Champion armor. But it would probably start to smell after a while. And it tended to intimidate people.

Cullen’s sharp gasp drew him out of his thoughts of fashion and he turned with a frown. The former Templar was writhing in bed and not in the fun way of the previous night. His leg jerked and Anton drew back to avoid a bruised arm.

“No…leave me…” Cullen muttered in between hissed breaths, arms twitching like he was trying to hold up his shield. Anton touched his arm lightly and he woke up with a gasp and a jerk of his head. Anton recoiled automatically to stop their heads from colliding as Cullen’s wide, terrified eyes looked around the room, scanning it. When their eyes met, Cullen started to relax, head falling back like he was still exhausted.

“Bad dream?” Anton asked for lack of anything else to say. “Was Meredith wearing that little thing we saw Serendipity wear in the Blooming Rose that barely covered anything?”

Cullen huffed a laugh and some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. “Yes, but nothing that horrifying, thankfully. Just the usual dreams of abominations and demons.”

Anton pursed his lips. Cullen hadn't had nightmares in years. “You're dreaming of the Circle again?”

“Not as much as I used to, but I think this mess with the Breach and then Corypheus is stirring up some…unpleasant memories.” Cullen leaned up on his elbows and a hand came up to stroke his cheek, tracing the lines of the tattoo, “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

Anton turned into the caress, eyelids fluttering at the warm rough palm at his cheek. He loved small touches like that and Cullen knew it. “Despite the dreams, is it still a good morning?” he asked, tracing a finger along Cullen’s eyebrows, soothing the tense spot between them.

His smile was genuine this time, happy even as his forehead remained a bit tense. “It’s perfect.” Anton grinned and leaned his forehead against Cullen’s, “I am, thank you.”

“You are….” Cullen sighed, but his hand shifted to cup the back of his head. “Nothing could ever compare to this.”

“Of course not,” Anton said, brushing a light kiss on his nose. “There’s just one of me in the world.”

“And I think that’s all the world can handle,” Cullen said. He grinned as Anton leaned in for a proper kiss and the smile didn’t fade even when Anton left the room to meet Varric in the Tavern.

The workday seemed to zip by for Cullen. Though there was so much left to be done until the Inquisition was truly a force to be reckoned with, he felt lighter than he had in years. Anton dropped by at intervals, literally in some cases as he dropped in from the bedroom, which should have been impossible considering there was only one ladder leading to it which hadn’t been used, but that never stopped him before. He brought food and wine for them to share, even a bunch of fresh-cut Embrium at one point, and each time he left, Cullen had to stop himself from whining like a Mabari pup left in the cold. It was probably for the best that he’d not asked Anton to come with him when he’d been recruited by the Inquisition. The man was a gorgeous distraction. Of course, that was assuming he even would have agreed considering he’d just been made Viscount of Kirkwall. Regardless, having him in Skyhold was definitely making Cullen’s job seem less stressful.

“Alright, that’s enough Serious Cullen for one day,” Anton declared when the sun dropped below the horizon. He pointed at the Scout Cullen had been talking to. “You! Come back tomorrow. The Commander has been called to a higher purpose.”

The Scout looked utterly confused but left when Cullen waved him away. “Anton, you can’t just toss recruits out of my office.”

“I can and I will. Literally, metaphorically, any way I want if it gets you out of this stuffy place. Come on, we’re having a round of Wicked Grace at the Tavern. Varric’s getting the Inquisitor to join.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

The night was fantastic. The stories flowed as freely as the drinks and Cullen honestly couldn’t remember laughing so much in one night. Varric’s tales of the Hawke brothers were in high demand with Anton providing context and even more outrageous tales. To Cullen’s relief, no one brought up the rumors of the…intimate relationship between him and Anton. Of course, no sooner had he thought it, Sera asked Anton if the rumors that he was “shaggin’ the Commander” were true.

Anton flashed her a quick smile. “There are rumors I’m shagging everyone. Even the ones shagging my brothers.”

“He's not shagging me,” Cullen interjected, not looking up from his cards. “Married couples don't shag.”

Anton snorted with laughter. Cassandra choked on her drink, Josephine grinned like a Cheshire cat, the Inquisitor, Blackwall and Iron Bull just laughed and congratulated him while Dorian offered to "scratch any itches." They were insane, but they were his friends and Cullen knew that, if anyone, they deserved to know. Anton nudged his foot under the table and Cullen leaned down to catch and squeeze his ankle once in pretense of scratching his own. Varric drew attention back to Wicked Grace and soon Cullen’s announcement was forgotten in the scramble to reduce everyone at the table to their smallclothes.

The games had everyone losing coin either to Anton or Josephine, who seemed to have taken the competition to heart and were trying to make the other person destitute first.

“I am impressed, Lady Josephine,” Anton drawled as she took the next pot. “I’ve played with Rivaini pirates who weren’t as skilled as you.”

“Rivainis have nothing on Antivans,” Josephine said. “Care for another round?”

“I’m in,” Anton said. “Anyone else?”

The others all shook their heads and normally Cullen would have declined as well, but he was still running on a high from Anton’s presence, the wine, his announcement and the jolly atmosphere in the Tavern. “I’m in. I want to see if your good fortune lasts one more hand. I think I’ve figured out your tells.”

As it turned out, Josephine had no tells.

“I can’t believe you actually bet your clothes.”

“I can’t believe she _took_ them.”

Anton chuckled, eyes glued on the muscular backside walking in front of him. “Antivans are not known for their mercy, my dear Cullen.”

“Neither are you,” Cullen grumbled.

“I loaned you my waistcoat.”

“That barely covers my…my front.”

“You reap what you sow.”

They reached Cullen’s office, thankfully without giving any recruits an eyeful and Anton took a seat on the desk again as Cullen changed. “You know I have a chair, don’t you?”

“More comfortable,” Anton said, swinging his legs like a child. “So, I think you learned never to bet against Antivans.”

“I’ll leave that to you. The only one who was more baffling than her was you. Since when have you developed fake tells?”

“I’m a scoundrel, Cullen, I can't afford to have anyone, even my husband, know all my tells. But I’m impressed: the only one who noticed that before was the dog. And he hated it.”

“Your Mabari is insane.”

“He just takes his card playing seriously.”

Cullen opened his mouth to respond, but there was a knock on his door followed by a “Commander? Urgent report!”

“Anton-” Before Cullen could finish the word, Anton was out the side door. Cullen stared after him for a moment, fighting the urge to call him back and to ignore the problems at his door, but duty won out.

If he was a little brash during the report, no one said anything.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

The meeting took longer than he liked. Once it was done, he walked the soldiers out and shut the door behind them, bracing it like someone would charge through if he didn’t.

“There’s always something more,” he muttered.

“Well, you could have stayed in Kirkwall with me and let me make you Knight Commander so that we could push this shit on Carver, but your pesky sense of nobility kept rearing its not-so-ugly head,” Anton said, back on his desk. “Tough meeting?”

Cullen chuckled tiredly. “Aren’t they all? I barely got time to get away when we were just a small faction of soldiers and now…”

“Maybe I should just steal you away,” Anton said, only slightly teasing. He hated the meetings that came as a requisite of being Viscount of Kirkwall too. And he hadn’t had Cullen to distract him.

“Maybe I should let you,” Cullen said, walking over to him. “Things always seem…simpler with you. This war won’t last forever and now I find myself thinking…”

“About…?”

“What to do after this war is over. Once Corypheus is gone and the Breach sealed. I…” Cullen swallowed and looked away. “I don’t know if I can stay with the Inquisition after. Without you.”

“Cullen-”

“Please, let me say this.” Cullen took a deep breath. “Leaving you before was easier because the Breach threatened everything, including you. You were adjusting to your new position as Viscount too and I thought you’d be happy if you could just focus on repairing the mess Anders left. Staying at Skyhold has been working because Corypheus is loose. Once this is all over, once that threat is gone…” he paused. “I don’t know if I could leave you again.”

He reached out and cupped Anton’s face, resting his forehead against his. “I want to stay and help the Inquisition…but I don’t want to leave my husband again. So what I’m saying- or rather asking, is-”

“You’re asking me to stay in Skyhold with you,” Anton interrupted. Cullen winced at the neutral tone.

“Sort of…well, yes.”

“Cullen-”

“It’s just a thought,” Cullen blurted, panic making breathing seem hard. “A ridiculous, selfish one, in fact, don’t worry about it. I don’t know what I was thinking, I’m just tired and-”

“Cullen,” Anton leaned forward to peck his lips lightly, stopping the train of words. “I can’t… I need to think about it.”

“I-what?”

“I’d be lying if I said the idea is wholly unappealing… but you know it isn’t as easy as me just not going back to Kirkwall. I’m their Viscount and the city’s still recovering from the collapse of the Templars and the Circle. While Aveline has been covering for me, she’s only doing it temporarily and…well, she’s not exactly good with people who aren’t supposed to be locked away or patrolling the city.” Anton paused, looking down at the floor for a moment before his eyes flicked up to Cullen’s. “But… I don’t want you to give up the Inquisition if it makes you so happy. And of course, it’s going to be… hard for us to work out if we’re going to be in different countries all the time. I’ll need to think about this, but once this Warden mess is over. I just want you to know that my answer, for now, is not a no.”

Cullen’s grin could have had magical properties. The kiss was fierce this time and the scrabbling of hands knocked down a wine bottle, the sharp sound of shattering glasses making them pull back. Cullen looked at the forlorn bottle and then back to Anton before grinning wildly and sweeping his arm along the desk to knock off the other implements and paper. Anton returned the feral smile, inching back on the desk as Cullen prowled forward like a tiger until they were reclining on it.

“I like what the Inquisition has done for your shyness,” Anton said, smiling up at him.

“How innocent can a man remain in your presence?” Cullen asked, leaning down to kiss his jaw. His fingers deftly began to unbutton Anton’s black waistcoat and blood red shirt. “I don’t think my innocence survived that night in your coat closet.”

“Neither did Lady de Launcet’s coat.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                “You grew out your hair,” Cullen said, combing his fingers through the reddish-brown strands. Anton just hummed, letting his head rest back on Cullen’s chest, eyes closed as he dozed. He had to give the Inquisitor this: he had a very peaceful garden. “I thought you hated when it got too long.”

“It’s not too long now,” Anton murmured, tapping an absent rhythm on Cullen’s thigh. “And repairing a city doesn’t allow for much attention to be given to proper grooming. I groom enough when I’m required to meet dignitaries, but otherwise it’s simply too much effort. Plus it’s not nearly as long as Cormac’s. Or even Artie’s.”

Cullen supposed that was true. He let out a content sigh and let his chin rest on top of Anton’s head, nose wrinkling as several strands tickled it. Nonetheless, it was nice to get a quiet moment now and then. The shade from the tree was just perfect and no one would think to look for their errant Commander in the Skyhold Gardens. Maker, Anton brought out the best and the worst in him.

“Are you still thinking about how bad a person you are for taking an hour off from work?” Anton asked, shifting a bit as the sun peeked through the leaves and into his eyes.

“Stop reading my mind, or I’ll Smite you again,” Cullen said, only half joking. Or completely joking since he wasn’t sure he could Smite _anything_ anymore.

“Please don’t do that. Not only will you scare all the mage recruits, everyone will start thinking I’m a closet mage.”

“You would have fun with that. Wiggling your fingers at poor recruits who don’t know any better. And then there’s your tendency to disappear and reappear without alerting anyone. I heard the guards have made it a challenge to see who can figure out how you get into the main hall without anyone noticing.”

“Well, if they catch me, you can be rest assured they can catch any potential assassins,” Anton yawned, snuggling back into Cullen’s chest and sneezing when the fur from his mantle tickled his nose. “Maker’s breath, what is the point of that dead animal on your shoulders anyway? I like that you ditched the heavy plate – though I’ll miss the skirts – but did you really have to move to carcasses?”

“This is my uniform,” Cullen said, a little puzzled. “And the carcass, as you put it, does help keep me warm. Which was important considering Haven was, quite honestly, a freezing dump.”

“And why do you even _wear_ plate? Most of the time, you’re just giving orders from your quarters.”

“I spar with the men sometimes!” Cullen said, a tad offended. Anton let out an undignified snort and elbowed Cullen right in his armor-clad ribs.

“Rarely. And still no reason to be wearing full plate _all_ the time. I’m not even wearing _my_ armor that much and it’s much lighter than yours, if harder to put on.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re not wearing your armor,” Cullen said, eyes raking down Anton’s reclining body, taking in the blood red tunic accentuated with a black waistcoat and wrist cuffs. “It’d be hard for us to lie like this if I was in danger of being impaled when I put my arms around you.”

“Hm, that would be a tragedy,” Anton tilted his head up to press a kiss to his chin. “If there’s any _impaling_ to be done, I rather it be of the pleasurable variety.”

And that was when, to Cullen’s everlasting regret and mortification, Mother Giselle happened to pass them.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                “Commander, you need to see this!”

“What? What is it?” Cullen asked, leaping to his feet, hands already reaching for his sword and shield.

“The Champion’s dueling that strange boy, Cole, in the sparring ring!” the recruit said, oblivious to the near heart attack he gave his Commander. “It’s amazing, Sir! Some of the recruits are already asking if the Champion would consider training them!”

“I’m sure that’d make his day, actually. Or ruin it,” Cullen muttered, following the recruit. Sure enough, there was a large crowd gathering around the sparring ring. Some people were even standing on the stairs of leading to the main hall to get a look. The moment Cullen got a line of sight to the ring, he could see why.

He’d seen Anton fight before. Had fought beside him before against Meredith and even then, Anton had taken his breath away. Quick as lightening and twice as deadly was the only way to describe him. It was impossible to pin him down. He didn’t seem to fight, so much as he appeared to dance. Daggers flashing so quickly that one blink could mean you were lying on the ground with a slit throat. He was never still, always bouncing his feet, ready to spring at any time. He moved so quickly, it seemed inconceivable that any blade, arrow or spell could hit him. It was dizzying to watch him move as he sprinted, leaped and flipped about the ring.

But Cole was plenty agile himself. It was incredible to watch as they exchanged blows, daggers clashing in a sharp bursts of metal. How were they still sporting no injuries was puzzling, but Cullen supposed it spoke volumes of their control and skill that they could fight so fiercely and still have complete control over their daggers.

Anton broke away from Cole and sprang into a backflip to put some distance between the two of them. He was sweating lightly and grinning like it was his Name Day celebration and Cullen forgot how to blink for a moment. Watching those muscles coil and relax as the daggers twirled was a highly erotic experience and Cullen wished he still had his shield to hold in front of himself before he embarrassed himself in front of everyone. Cole leapt forward to engage Anton again and they were exchanging rapid fire slashes and stabs until finally, Anton dodged a stab for his ribs, grabbed Cole’s extended wrist and used it to flip him over his shoulder onto the ground. Before anyone could even react, he was kneeling over Cole with a dagger to his throat, the clear victor.

The spectators cheered loudly and Anton got up to take a bow like the showman he was before helping Cole up as well. He slapped the boy on the back and they exchanged a few words before Cole was off again, vanishing to wherever he went to do whatever he did. The crowd began to clear slowly as Anton climbed out of the ring and made his way to where Cullen was still standing like a rooted tree.

“Enjoyed the show, did you?” Anton said with a near purr.

“You know I did,” Cullen said, ears flushing pink. “I haven’t seen you fight in over a year. I’d forgotten how…”

“Amazing? Deadly? Gorgeous?”

“…Graceful you looked.” Cullen shrugged at Anton’s quizzical look. “It doesn’t seem like a fight. You look like you’re…dancing. I can’t explain it…its just incredible to watch.”

“You do know how to flatter a man, Commander,” Anton said with a grin, though Cullen could tell he was a little flustered at the compliment. He never did know how to receive unconventional flattery. “So how many recruits are now clamoring for me to train them?”

“Based on that crowd? You’ll be lucky if you ever run into a recruit who _won’t_ beg you to mentor them.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

“Anton, for Andraste’s sake, stop scaring the recruits!”

“What did I do?”

“You’ve been skulking around the battlements-”

“Observing-”

“Jumping off balconies-”

“Have to stay nimble-”

“Running through people’s rooms-”

“Only when I’m in a hurry-”

“And you’ve made at least 7 recruits cry-”

“That’s not so much-”

“ _Since yesterday_.”

Anton didn’t have anything for that. Well, nothing that wouldn’t dig him a deeper hole.

“I know you’re bored, love,” Cullen said a little more gently. “But you can’t keep terrorizing Skyhold.”

“I hardly call that a reign of terror,” Anton grumbled, taking out a whetstone and sharpening his daggers.

“Look, the Inquisitor said he’ll be leaving for Crestwood soon and you said you wanted to leave a day or two before to track down your Warden friend-”

“Stroud.”

“-So you’ve got a couple of days to relax. Go play cards with Varric. Read with Dorian. Drink with Bull, anything but duel the recruits!”

“Not much of a duel,” Anton said idly. “Most of them can’t hold onto their blades for longer than a few seconds. Cole is a nice challenge…but he keeps trying to ‘heal my hurt’ or whatever it is he does.”

“He doesn’t do it to be cruel,” Cullen said with a sigh. “But I understand. Just…I know this is hard for you. Having to just watch this all happen and not be able to do anything about it.”

“I don’t like feeling useless,” Anton said lightly, but Cullen saw his white-knuckled grip on his dagger. “There’s _literally_ nothing to do. I hate that. In Kirkwall, I couldn’t get longer than an hour to myself without someone needing me to save them from something or find their missing son. I…hate this idleness.”

“I know,” he said gently, reaching forward to cover that hand with his own. “But who knows how long it’ll be until we’ll get this much peace again?” He leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “Tell you what: why don’t you sneak a jar of lavender honey from the kitchens and bring it here tonight? We’ll make a night of it like we used to.”

“Now _that_ sounds like an excellent idea, Commander.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

“Now what _is_ all this?” Anton asked with a grin.

“You’re leaving for Crestwood tomorrow,” Cullen said, lighting the last of the candles. While it didn’t cover up the dilapidation of the walls and ceiling, it definitely added a more romantic vibe to the room itself. He made a mental note to actually get his bedroom repaired before the first rain or snow. “I thought we should give you a proper sendoff.”

“I’ll likely be back in a couple of days, you know,” Anton said, looking at the label of the wine. It was an Amaranthine 8:89, he already knew that. It just gave him someplace to look until he could get his smile under control.

“Or it could be longer. Either way, I doubt you have any real protests,” Cullen said, walking over to wrap his arms around his waist. He looked over his shoulder at the wine, “I couldn’t get the same bottle we had that night, so I had to improvise. And ask a few favors.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Anton said. “Now go undress, lie down and let me pour.”

Cullen followed his orders and shucked most of his clothes, leaving him in the pants and loose shirt he wore under his armor. Anton sauntered over with two glasses of honey wine and straddled his thighs, offering one glass to him.

“Mm, I never get tired of this,” Cullen said, taking a sip before switching the wine to his other hand to run fingers over Anton’s thigh.

“After all these years?”

“Never.”

They exchanged kisses between sips of sweet wine and the glasses eventually found a place on the floor next to piles of discarded clothing. Cullen knocked them over the next morning and spilled dregs of it on his white undershirt. The stains didn’t come out, but he honestly didn’t really want them to.

It still smelt of sweet wine and even sweeter skin.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

Cullen tried not to seem like he was running towards the War Room, but he had a feeling he failed when recruits and guests scrambled out of his way like he would mow them down if they didn’t. Maybe he would. All he knew was that Anton was back after too many weeks and he wanted this report over with so that they could retreat to his quarters.

He met Leliana and Josephine in the War Room and Anton joined them moments later. Cullen bit his lips at the sight of him. He looked tired, worn out and he wanted badly to put him to bed until he looked the way he had before leaving. Anton gave them his report on Adamant Fortress before taking his leave. Cullen wanted to follow him, but the Inquisitor had been sent for and duty overcame everything else. Admittedly, he was a little quicker with the report than he would have liked, but the Inquisitor’s eyes were sympathetic as he dismissed them.

When he got back to his quarters, Anton wasn’t there. He wasn’t sitting on his desk, sharpening his daggers like he usually was. Cullen bit his lip and climbed the ladder to his bedroom, finally fixed up so that it no longer looked like an abandoned room with a bed. He let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Anton sprawled on the bed, only the spiky bits of his armor having been shed in a pile. He entered quietly and sat down next to him, hand reaching out to stroke a soothing line down his back. He was glad Anton had decided to rest, but concerned at what could have happened to make him so exhausted. It was definitely a long journey from the Western Approach to Skyhold and there was yet another one soon to come up. However, at least he’d be with him this time.

He shucked his armor and snuck into the other side of the bed, curling up behind Anton and basking in the heat of his body against his front. Even though it was early evening, Cullen found himself falling asleep and he didn’t bother to fight it.

The next morning, he woke up with Anton still in his arms, dozing. He nuzzled his neck and kissed his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back,” Anton said with a tired sigh. “Maker, I can’t wait until this mess with the Wardens is finished. I’m never setting foot in the Western Approach again.”

“Are you alright?”

“Hm? Yes, just….tired. I’m….not used to being on my own for so long.”

“Really?”

“I’ve always traveled with people. Either my friends or my family. Long journeys are quite dull without company.”

“Well, at least you won’t be traveling alone again. I’ll be leading the assault on Adamant Fortress for the Inquisitor.”

“I’m both pleased and apprehensive.”

Cullen sighed and let Anton roll onto his back so that he could lean over him. “I’ll be fine. You’re the one I’m worried about. No doubt, you’ll be going in with the Inquisitor.”

“Cullen, I’ve faced Corypheus before and he wasn’t the one who came out better in the end.”

“I have no doubt you can take care of yourself, but…I worry about you going where I cannot follow.”

“Cullen,” Anton looked at him and this time, he looked more like himself than he had the past day. “Nothing, not even the Fade, is going to keep me from you.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

They laid siege on the Fortress and Anton followed the soldiers onto the battlements. Cullen stayed long enough to see him scale the wall before focusing on the invasion. He gave orders and fought, even as he listened for news on the Inquisitor- and Anton’s- advance. So far, the reports were all favorable. Anton was saving lives on the battlements as he followed the Inquisitor and he was never more proud.

Then came the roar that made his heart sink.

The Lyrium Dragon descended on the Fortress and Cullen’s heart felt like it would burst out of his chest. The Hawke brothers had slain a dragon before, but there was just one of them here now and he was also fighting an army. After several long moments, the Dragon appeared again, flying away from the Fortress and Cullen was both terrified and relieved. It looked wounded, but how much damage had it done?

“I want a report on what’s going on in that Fortress, now!” he ordered one of the scouts. She saluted and ran off.

They continued the siege for long moments before the scout came back.

“Commander,” she said, looking pale. Cullen felt his heart stop. “The dragon forced the Inquisitor to open a rift….he fell into it along with the Champion and the Warden.”

“Maker,” Cullen swallowed. A rift into the Fade. The Inquisitor had opened a rift into the Fade and physically fallen into it….as had Anton.

The rest of the battle seemed to go by in a blur. The kept up the siege and he received reports that some Wardens had joined the Inquisition to fight the demons. After what felt like hours, the demons suddenly began to fall, like puppets with their strings cut. The soldiers cheered and Cullen joined them, even if his heart wasn’t truly in it. It was another hour before he saw the Inquisitor exiting the Fortress to cheers followed by his party…and no one else.

Cullen gripped his sword tighter to stop himself from running over and demanding answers. The Inquisitor seemed to have anticipated that and he saw him break away to walk to him. Cullen swallowed tightly. He didn’t like that look of apology and sympathy.

“Cullen-”

“Is he dead?” Cullen interrupted. Best to get it over with.

“No.” And that was it. Now he could breathe again. Anton was alive. “But he’s left for Weisshaupt to warn the rest of the Wardens. He asked me to say goodbye to you.”

“What?” That was a surprise. “Why not send Stroud?”

The Inquisitor flinched a bit and looked down, “Stroud…did not make it.”

“Oh Maker…” Cullen said, eyes closing in a moment of grief for yet another lost hero.

“We faced a Nightmare Demon in the Fade. Stroud and Hawke volunteered to stay back to fight it so the rest of us could escape.” The Inquisitor’s face screwed up a bit, “I…chose Stroud to stay back.”

“I’m sorry,” Cullen said. He could only imagine the guilt the Inquisitor was feeling after having to make a decision like that. “But…thank you. For…”

“Couldn’t leave him behind,” the Inquisitor said with a slight quirk of his lips, even though his eyes were sad. “You and Varric would have killed me.”

“His brothers would be the one you’d have to look out for,” Cullen said with a half-hearted chuckle. “All the Hawke siblings are very protective of each other. Cormac and Artemis especially. And Anton’s the youngest of the three. Then there’s his younger sister. I think she’s the most frightening out of them all.”

“I made the right call then,” the Inquisitor winced. “I can barely deal with my own siblings most of the time.” He clapped Cullen on the shoulder. “Come, time for us to return to Skyhold to plan our departure for the Winter Palace.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                The Winter Palace might be a beautiful structure, but the people inside it left a lot to be desired. No amounts of polite refusals and insistences that he was taken would deter the crowd of ‘admirers’ that he had gathered around him. It was taking every ounce of his Templar training to stop him from ripping off the hand that grabbed his ass or touched his shoulder. When Anton did things like that, it flustered him. When these _vultures_ did it, he felt like scrubbing himself clean. None of them seemed to care about the fact that he was a married man. In fact, it seemed to just make them pushier.

Then small things began happening. The man who groped him suddenly fell flat on his arse as he walked. One of the women had wine splattered all over the front of her dress. Slowly, but surely, his suitors began to dissipate, some casting him wary looks like he was the one responsible. Cullen couldn’t even bring himself to care.

“That’s the issue with Orlesian dresses,” came a familiar drawl from beside him. “So easy to tamper with.”

Cullen’s head whipped to the side his grin could have blinded someone when he noticed just who it was standing next to him clad in red and black Orlesian formal clothing and wearing a very familiar mask that couldn’t hide the very familiar tattoo or the very familiar blue eyes. Maker, it was hard to not corral him out into the balcony to greet him properly, but, sadly, they were here on business.

“You’re back from Weisshaupt?” he whispered.

“No, Cullen, I remain there and decided to send my identical twin that no one knows about to seduce you,” Anton snorted. “I never planned to be there long. I stayed long enough to deliver a warning and an explanation before leaving. Varric sent me a message to let me know you were here and I didn’t feel like missing a party.”

“How did you even get in here?”

“And you thought I just climbed the walls in Hightown for fun. If an assassin can get in here, so can I. But in this case, I just walked through the front door. Who's going to say no to the Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall?” Anton said with a grin.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Cullen said. He looked around to see no one was staring at them and he stole a quick kiss. He almost regretted it because it just made him all the more eager to just let Celene be assassinated so that he could steal a few more moments with Anton. “And thank you for getting rid of my ‘fans’.”

“I thought it would make up for leaving you at Adamant without saying goodbye,” Anton said. He sounded uncharacteristically subdued. “I…was afraid that I might not be able to leave if I told you myself.”

“I don’t care,” Cullen said and it wasn’t even a lie anymore. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

A pause. “So,” Anton said, “after this mess is over, would you care to dance?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh.”

“Ah, no, I didn’t- Maker, I’ve heard that offer so many times, I’m rejecting it automatically… I don’t know how to dance.”

“I can teach you.”

“Well…maybe.”

“I’ll take what I can get,” Anton brushed a kiss to his cheek. “Tell the Inquisitor there’s something he should investigate in the Servant’s Quarters. Morrigan can be trusted. I’m going to examine the Royal Wing to see what I can find.” By the time Cullen looked back over at him, he was gone.

With renewed energy, Cullen scanned the ballroom for the Inquisitor and this time, he did it in silence.

 

~~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                “Well, this feels like old times,” Anton said, dodging a swipe to his ribs and slashing open the Harlequin’s throat in return.

“Admittedly, with less red lyrium,” Cullen called, bashing another one of the Duchess’ men with his shield. “And Templars.”

“I’m almost disappointed,” Anton ducked another a swipe, rolled forward and slashed upwards, making another man reel back with his hand trying to hold his entrails in. “But I have to admit, an evening with the Inquisition is rarely boring.”

“It’s just one party after the other,” Cullen lopped off the head of a Harlequin aiming to stab one of the recruits. “Get to the Inquisitor if you can. I can handle these louts.”

“Just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?” Anton said. He looked around at the Harlequins and the Duchess’ guards who were still battling the Inquisition’s soldiers and mapped a path to the balcony the Inquisitor had run out into. But the route needing some thinning out.

The first Harlequin he passed, he slashed the tendons behind his knees to allow the soldier to plunge his sword into his throat. The next he grabbed with an arm around the throat and pulled in front of him to block the blade of a guard, whose throat he slashed in quick succession. One Harlequin swiped for his neck and he ducked under the blade, swinging his own dagger back at his attacker’s knees. A guard swung at him, but he ducked, tucked his shoulder into his stomach and flipped him over onto his back where he was quickly slain by a soldier. He kicked some of the tables over to slow down his foes and used them as a stepping stool to leap up, grab the drapery and use it and the wall to propel himself over the heads of some of the panicking nobles, where he landed on a guard. A Harlequin swung at him and he blocked with a vambrace, lashing out with the other hand before rolling off to his side for the balcony.

He promptly vaulted over the railing, landing with barely a sound. Two Harlequins stood before the gate that lead into the garden and he could see the Inquisitor fighting the Duchess on the other side, firing spell after spell after the flight-footed rogue.

“Oh, no one gets to steal my schtick,” Anton muttered to himself. The Harlequins were easily dispatched as he flung a dagger into the heart of one and then caught the second by surprise, plunging his dagger into his stomach before he even had a moment to scream. He quickly retrieved his dagger and then pulled at the garden gate. Locked.

“Why can’t anything go smoothly for once?” he muttered. Fortunately, the walls of the garden had ledges built into with for potted plants. He took a running start, leapt onto the ledge and managed to get enough momentum to leap up, catch the edge of the wall and vault himself over it and into the garden. Duchess Florianne continued to dart from wall to fountain and the Inquisitor had his hands full dealing with her hirelings.

“Very rude to bring an army without any warning,” Anton called. The Duchess wheeled around and snarled at him, firing an arrow faster than he expected. He dodged out of the way, but it managed to slice a thin line along his arm. Ah well, at least he was wearing red. You couldn’t see blood in red clothing.

“It doesn’t matter how many men the Inquisitor has with him,” Florianne taunted. “I will put an arrow in all of them.”

“Oh please, my sister has bullied an archer better than you,” Anton called, eyes taking in potential paths to get to Florianne. He was too far away for a clean throw. She was too skilled with her bow for him to get too close. Ultimately, the only thing to do was to take advantage of the little cover the shrubbery and fountain gave him to get as close as possible for a clean throw or until the Inquisitor was no longer engaged.

An arrow narrowly missed him as he dove behind a hedge the indignity of the fight was beginning to annoy him. “How arrows can you possibly have?”

“One for each of you is all I need!” Florianne called back. The next arrow nearly hit him in the shoulder. “Come out, little rabbit. You cannot avoid me forever.”

“ANTON!”

Anton looked up in time to see a shield with the symbol of a flaming sword flying through the air towards him. He caught in automatically, sliding it on his forearm. Exactly what he needed.

“Sorry darling, but I think I need to end this,” he called, crouching. “I have a dance to attend.” He charged out from behind the hedge and the Duchess’s arrows hit the shield in quick succession. One glance from behind the shield was all he needed. The dagger flew and Florianne collapsed to the ground as it plunged through her skull with a damp thud. The Harlequins seemed to realize their cause was lost and the Inquisitor and his party soon had the garden clear. Anton yanked his dagger out of the Duchess’ skull and waved the shield at Cullen, standing at the other side of the fence and looking relieved.

“I’m beginning to understand why you favor these things!” Anton called. “I’m keeping it!”

 

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

“Maker, what a night,” Cullen groaned.

“This was the best Orlesian party I’ve been to,” Anton chirped, playing with the crude bandage covering the gash on his arm.

Cullen slapped his hand away. “Murder, mayhem, of course you enjoyed it.”

“I do like murder and mayhem. With a spot of mystery.”

Cullen chuckled and took advantage of the privacy on the balcony to steal a proper kiss this time. He sighed into Anton’s mouth as he licked his lips open and they were both breathless by the time he pulled away.

“Can you take off that mask?” Cullen asked. “I…prefer your face.”

Anton smiled and undid the mask with two quick hand movements, drawing it away to reveal a familiar and well-missed face. Cullen’s hand came up almost automatically to caress his cheek. “There you are.”

“Here I am.”

“So, how was your first mission with the Inquisition?”

“I doubt that counts since I only participated in the end a bit.”

“It counts. The Inquisitor wouldn’t have gotten everything done so quickly without you.”

“Well, it wouldn’t have happened so quickly if you hadn’t thrown your shield to me.”

“Nonetheless, you helped the Inquisition a great deal today. And the Inquisitor would agree with me.”

Anton paused. “Are you trying to convince me to join the Inquisition?”

“No!” Cullen said. Anton raised an eyebrow. “Alright, maybe a little.”

“Cullen…”

“I know, I know, you said you’d think about it, but I just…” he sighed. “I didn’t like it when you left Adamant. Not even a word to me. And I couldn’t follow. It was different when you were with your brothers or friends, but alone…I worry.”

“Of course you worry,” Anton said with a hint of amusement and fondness. “You always worry. It’s one of the things I love about you.”

The word ‘love’ sent tingles of pleasure down Cullen’s spine. He’d never get tired of hearing that word.

“May I have this dance?” he blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“You wanted to dance,” Cullen said, trying to sound more sure and succeeding. “And I may never have another chance like this again, so…let’s dance.” He took a few steps back and bowed, holding his hand out expectantly.

“I…okay,” Anton fumbled for words and Cullen felt a pang of glee that, for once, he wasn’t the one floundering for words. “Why, Commander, I thought you didn’t dance.”

“For you,” he closed his hand around Anton’s and pulled him close for a traditional waltz. One of the few dances he knew. “I’ll try.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

                “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cullen sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I had it under control. There was no need-”

“There was no need to tell me you weren’t taking lyrium anymore?” Anton demanded. Cullen had never seen him looking so incensed.

“The Inquisitor and Cassandra only know because it could hurt the Inquisition. Other than that-”

“And what about the small fact that this could _kill_ you?”

“It hasn’t yet.” Anton let out a growl and Cullen felt all the fight go out of him. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Oh, letting me walk in on you about to collapse was definitely the way to go then.”

“I didn’t know you would-” another spasm of pain through his gut had Cullen nearly doubling over. Anton’s hand were on his shoulders a second later and he was corralled into the chair in the corner. “I never meant for you to find out.”

“Are you going to be alright?” Anton asked, hands gripping a little too tightly.

“Yes,” came the automatic answer. Anton stayed silent and Cullen sighed. “Maybe…I don’t know.”

“Maker…why didn’t you tell me? I'm your husband and while I know we don't do things traditionally, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to tell me things like this!”

“Because I didn’t know if I could do it,” Cullen blurted out. Anything to stop that betrayed tone in Anton’s voice. “I…I didn’t want you to know because I thought you’d be disappointed if I couldn’t do it. Templars…aren’t the same when they come off the lyrium. Some lose their memories, others go mad. You met Samson, _that’s_ what we- what _I_ could turn into. I haven’t heard of any that have managed to wean themselves off the stuff. I want to be able to do it, but I don’t know if I can…”

“Why do you want to give it up?” Anton asked. “While I know you’re not one for the Templar order anymore…”

“I don’t want a single trace of them in me,” Cullen said, fists clenching. “First Kinloch Hold, then Kirkwall and Meredith…I was tortured in one and I nearly lost you to the second. Innocent people died in the streets, I ruined families….why would I want anything to do with that life?”

Anton didn’t say anything, but his hands covered Cullen’s, stroking a soothing line on the backs of them. “Cullen…”

“Don’t. You should question what I’ve done. I’ve hurt mages, innocent ones, just because they were mages. I would have taken your sister and your brothers and locked them in the Gallows because I thought I was doing the right thing…I would have had you punished for harboring fugitives from the Circle-”

“But you didn’t.”

“Only because I found out about them when I was already having doubts about Meredith and I was madly in love with you,” Cullen said, swallowing back bile at the thought of how easily he could have lost this man. How he could have sent his husband to the gallows to hang. “I thought giving up lyrium would be better. Would give me some control over my life. But these…. _thoughts_ won’t leave me.” He got up, unable to sit still any longer and he paced restlessly behind his desk.

“So many lives depend on us,” he gritted out. “I swore myself to this cause and I cannot- I WILL not give less to the Inquisition than I did the Chantry!” He gripped his hair tightly, the flash of pain feeling well deserved. “I should be taking it!” His fist smashed onto his desk, rattling the bottles and knocking a couple of books to the ground. “I should be taking it…”

“Cullen,” Anton stood in front of his, hands cupping his face and tilting it up to meet his eyes. “You give enough to the Inquisition. No one will fault you for taking an hour or two for yourself from time to time.”

“I shouldn’t need to-”

“This isn’t the Circle,” Anton interrupted, giving him a slight shake. “And this isn’t Kirkwall. The Inquisition can be your fresh start… if you want it to be. Don’t take the lyrium, you don’t need it, but don’t shut me out either. If you have cravings, seek me out. I’ll distract you with wine or sex or stories of how Artie used to Force Push me out of trees, whatever you want. But you can overcome this. And I’ll support you every step of the way.”

Cullen almost felt like bursting into tears. What had he done to deserve this man? He nodded, covering Anton’s hands with his own and pressing a kiss to his palms. “Alright.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

“Are you serious?” Leliana said, looking at Cullen with a raised eyebrow.

“Only if it’s possible,” Cullen said, trying not to fidget and succeeding. Sort of. “You have agents in the Hinterlands and I was hoping that one of them could take the time to do this.”

“This is for Anton, isn’t it?” she said with a smile.

“Who else would I do this for?”

Leliana shook her head, “I’ll have some scouts try. But I don’t have to tell you that it won’t be a high priority.”

“Of course not. Just if they happen to stumble upon one or have a chance to look for one. Thank you, Leliana.”

“You owe me, Commander,” she called behind him as he left the Roost.

A few days later, one of the scouts knocked on his door with a bundle in his arms.

“It wasn’t easy, Commander,” he said. “But we managed to get one.”

“Thank you very much,” Cullen said, taking the bundle and handling it carefully. “I do appreciate it.”

Fortunately, the timing was perfect because Anton dropped in, literally, for lunch.

“Oh, were you having something delivered?” he asked, dropping the wine, cheese, dry meat and bread on Cullen’s desk.

“I…don’t think you’ll want to eat this,” Cullen said with a wide smile.

Anton blinked and walked over to peer closely at the bundle. He moved aside a few folds of cloth…and his jaw dropped open.

“In Kirkwall, you said that you wanted a Fennec but were afraid the dog would bully it,” Cullen said. “So…I thought you’d appreciate it now.”

The little Fennec pup squirmed in the cloth and yipped sharply. Anton continued to look gobsmacked even as he picked the pup up from Cullen and held it to his chest. The pup yipped, but accepted a careful stroke of fingers over its little head and down its spine and soon, it settled down in Anton’s hand like it was the best bed in the world. It was young enough to have not been in the wild for long and, hopefully, it would make a wonderful pet.

“Cullen…” that got his attention. Anton had never sounded so wrecked in all the years he’d known him. “I-you actually-”

“You wanted one,” Cullen said, stepping closer to stroke the pup’s head, allowing Anton time to pull himself together.

“And you got me one,” Anton said with a watery laugh. “You insane, fantastic, brilliant man-” One hand held the pup securely while the other tangled in Cullen’s furry mantle to pull him forward for a kiss that was both intense and sweet. Neither of them could stop smiling enough to make it any deeper, but they didn’t care. The pup yipped and they broke apart to shower it with strokes and pets.

Things wouldn’t be this peaceful again for a long time and Cullen soaked it in as much as he could.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

“So I heard you’ve decided to stay.”

“Hm?” Anton didn’t look away from where Fin the Fennec was balancing on the sole of his foot and yipping with delight as he kept him in the air.

“The Inquisitor said that you told him you were staying until Corypheus is defeated,” Cullen said, looking at the pup with a bit of trepidation. If he fell off, at least he’d land on the bed or Anton would catch him.

“Preventing the end of the world trumps most other things. My siblings are all leading their own lives. I can either go back to Kirkwall or stay here and help the Inquisition.” He bent his leg, keeping his foot level until he picked up Fin and settled him on his chest. The pup tried to nip at his fingers when Anton wiggled them in front of his face. “Aveline and Carver have been handling Kirkwall well in my absence. Plus, I would be lying if I said I didn’t have other reasons to stay.”

Cullen sat down on the bed next to Anton and pet the pup’s soon-to-be-fluffy tail. “I just wanted to ask if you were sure. I didn’t mean to force you to stay if you don’t want to.”

“Cullen, has anyone ever succeeded in making me do something I don’t want to?” Anton asked, finally looking at him. “Truth be told, I miss this. Just being a small part of something big. I’ve spent so long trying to make sure Kirkwall doesn’t fall apart that I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. Some days I wish that I wasn’t the Viscount or the Champion at all. That I was still just one of the Hawkes. I’ve gone from being noticed only when I want to be to being one of the most important people in any room.”

“And here I thought you would enjoy the attention,” Cullen said, lying down next to him on his side.

“Not when it doesn’t stop,” Anton made a face. “Anyway, the Inquisition is helping a lot more people and, honestly, the Hawkes are at least partially responsible for Corypheus’ release. I suppose, in a way, I’m trying to make up for that. Plus, you can’t tell me that the Inquisition wouldn’t benefit from having the Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall around.”

“The mages have definitely been calmer,” Cullen admitted.

“Exactly. Josephine’s been having me meet some nobles as well. She said I’m ‘charming’.”

“You _are_ charming,” Cullen said, hand stroking his stomach. “I could have told you that within a few minutes of meeting you. If you hadn’t pushed me into a coat closet and then proceeded to make me incapable of thought at all.”

“Well, you did tell me a lot of other things that I appreciated more,” Anton said with a sensual grin as ushered Fin to the side and off the bed so that he could turn and face Cullen. “And I never get tired of hearing that. Anyway, back to the topic at hand, we might go into battle together yet again, Commander.”

Cullen sighed, slipped his hand around Anton’s side to his back to pull him a bit closer, “I’m becoming more and more tempted to start accompanying the Inquisitor personally.”

Anton leaned forward for a kiss. “You know me, I’m too handsome to die.”

“Please be sure to let Corypheus know that,” Cullen said with a grin, turning Anton onto his back and hovering over him. “By the way, did you know our anniversary is coming up soon?”

“Is it?” Anton said, surprised. “Maker, I’ve lost track of the days.”

“I suppose war doesn’t leave much time to distinguish time,” Cullen said. “But the Inquisitor is traveling to Val Royeaux with Dorian, who, due to a lost game of chess, has been tasked with getting a bottle of Orlesian honey wine. The same one we shared that night at the party.”

Anton’s grin turned feral, “I imagine you have your eye on a coat closet?”

“Of course, but not the same one as last time. I heard Sera has been hoping to catch us in it and I think Dorian is helping her.”

“My dear Cullen, we will only be caught if we want to be caught.”

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                “Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter. Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just….”

“I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you pray.”

Cullen chuckled, but it was half-hearted at best, straightening up from his kneeling position in front of the statue of Andraste. “Recent events have not been good for the faithful.”

“At least you still have faith,” Anton said, hovering outside the door of the Chantry. “Can I come in or will I get struck by lightning?”

“If you get struck by lightning, I would blame Dorian for that,” Cullen waved him in.

“It’s…good. That you still have faith,” Anton said, walking in hesitantly. “I’m afraid I’m not one for it. Never have been, you know that. Well, not in the Maker anyway. Though this shit with Corypheus is making me question myself. Only so unbelieving you can remain when faced with a living myth who can only be the incarnation of what's bad and wrong with the world.” He looked over at the statue of Andraste, “The people of Kirkwall have been…well, lets just say the lack of a Chantry has not done much for their mental states. I never realized how important one building was for the people.”

“I’m not entirely sure whether I do still have faith,” Cullen sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I think this is more to comfort myself than anything.”

“You haven’t been this agitated since the siege at Adamant,” Anton said, running a finger along his cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything,” he cupped that hand, appreciative of the soothing gesture. “I don’t even know anymore.”

“Cullen…is this about what happened during the charge on the Arbor Wilds?”

“You were just gone,” Cullen blurted out. Maker, he could keep nothing from this man. “Corypheus was gone, the Temple was a ruin and for two days, I had no idea what had happened. I thought you were dead, that you’d done something stupid and heroic like buy the Inquisitor time like you tried to in the Fade. Leliana’s message that you were at Skyhold was…it was like I could breathe again.” He closed his eyes, “It frightens me sometimes. Just how lost I am without you.”

“Why Commander, you know that nothing short of the apocalypse stands a chance of killing me,” Anton said, but Cullen didn’t even crack a smile. Anton’s smile faded. “I wish I could promise that I won’t scare you like that again,” he said, voice quiet. “But all I can promise is that I’ll try to come back every time.”

“Corypheus is going to attack again,” Cullen said, voice tight. “He won’t ignore the way we thwarted him at the Wilds. And you’ll meet him with the Inquisitor.” He closed his eyes, “Andraste preserve me, I must watch you go to him.”

Anton’s other hand cupped his face, stroking a line over his cheekbone, “Cullen, I…I must do this. My family started it and at least one of us needs to see this done. I’ve faced worse odds and come on top. Hell, I’ve interrupted Bethany while she was…well, defiling Sebastian and come out of it alive.” He let out a watery chuckle, “If I can survive four Hawkes, I think I can survive one ancient magister.” Cullen huffed and it might have been a laugh, but he couldn’t tell. He slid his hands away as Cullen pulled them to press a kiss to his knuckles. “But…Cullen, if, by any small chance, I don’t-”

“Maker, no,” the words were choked and Anton didn’t even attempt to finish his sentence as Cullen pulled him into his arms, holding him tightly like Corypheus would break down the doors and rip him away. Once, that embrace would have had him panicking and running for the Anderfels, but that was years ago. Before Meredith and the Arishok and so many other challenges that always seemed miniscule in comparison to the challenge of understanding and accepting Cullen’s love. Now, he returned the hug just as tightly, showing Cullen his fears and anxieties without voicing them. And one of the many reasons he loved this man was because Cullen could read him like the Chant of Light.

“Whatever happens,” Cullen murmured in his ear, “you will come back.”

“I can’t mess up the Commander’s plan, can I? And I’m pretty sure my siblings will disown me if I die at Corypheus’ hands. Cormac would bring me back just to drown me a chamberpot.” Even as he said it, Cullen could tell his heart wasn’t in the jokes. “Cullen, you don’t have to-”

“Allow me this,” Cullen held him a bit tighter, a hand in his hair keeping his head pressed against his shoulder. Anton settled into the hug comfortably, taking as much comfort as he was giving. He could feel Cullen’s breath hitch against his ear. “To believe anything else…I can’t…”

The prayer stayed in his mind, even later as Corypheus tore open the Breach again and Anton joined the Inquisitor’s party for Haven. He watched them advance while he cleared a path with a skeletal force and then watched them be drawn into the sky where he could not follow. The prayers nearly forced itself to his lips, but he dismissed. He still had faith.

He just had faith in Anton.

 

~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~x~~~~~~~

 

                It was over.

After so many months of facing first the Breach and then Corypheus, it was staggering to think all those problems were ended with a day’s battle and a small army. The Inquisitor managed to kill Corypheus’ Lyrium Dragon with Morrigan’s aid and then banish Corypheus himself. Cullen’s ears were still ringing from the cheers of the soldiers and scouts and his throat was sore from joining in. The Inquisitor was going to be arriving at Skyhold a day later than him and Cullen wished he’d had the chance to return with his party, but the duties of the Commander were never ending it seemed. Nonetheless, when a messenger told him that the Inquisitor was arriving, Cullen felt like he’d just had a full night’s sleep and he was one of the first people to stand at the stairs leading up to the main hall where the banquet was waiting for the Herald of Andraste.

The Inquisitor walked in to loud cheers from every resident of Skyhold, soon followed by Varric, Cassandra, Iron Bull, Dorian and the others…but Cullen had eyes for only one person. The one who had skulked behind the spectators on entry and was standing with the rest of the party at the bottom of the stairs, holding a fresh cut Embrium flower and watching him. Cullen tore his eyes away with great effort to bow before the Inquisitor and shake his hand, who just smiled and nodded his head in Anton’s direction. Cullen grinned and, for once, didn’t care about the crowd or soldiers watching them. He hurried down the stairs and Anton opened his arms with a grin as Cullen squeezed him tight enough to lift him onto his toes.

“Need to breathe, Cullen,” Anton said, a little choked as he tapped Cullen’s head with the flower. “I didn’t survive a second round with Corypheus to let you hug me to death.”

“You’ll shut up and enjoy it,” Cullen said, breathlessly, uncaring about the spikes and buckles of Anton’s armor poking him. “And if you dig your fingers into my shoulders, I’ll be the one bleeding out.”

The grip immediately loosened, “Sorry.”

Cullen only let go when Dorian clapped him on the shoulder and told him that there was still a party to attend. Even then, his arms withdrew from around Anton reluctantly and he had a feeling that he’d have likely just spent the entire night like that if no one stopped him. Anton handed him the flower and then took his hand as they walked up to the banquet. Their hands stayed entwined, even when people came up to talk to the Commander of the Inquisition or the Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall. Every now and then, they exchanged small kisses, either on the hand, the cheek or the lips and soon, people just stopped coming, some unspoken agreement reached to leave them alone.

“Am I imagining it, or do we actually have some time to breathe?” Cullen murmured.

“This is all in your head,” Anton said seriously. “When you look down, you’ll see that you have no pants on.”

Cullen chuckled and pulled him close once again, “I’d rather see that you have no pants on.”

“In public?” Anton said, sound scandalized. “My dear Commander! This Inquisition has truly corrupted you! Where is that sweet, shy boy who used to bring me flowers and blush at the mention of nudity?”

“He grew up,” Cullen said, leaning down to kiss his jaw and then neck, “when he met an infuriating, gorgeous man who he fell madly in love with despite said man’s efforts to make him die of bloodloss to the head at every chance.”

“Well, clearly, I can’t leave you here alone anymore. You’ll become dark and jaded if you keep maturing so quickly,” Anton said with a pleased hum when a kiss landed on a sensitive spot on his neck. “But we are getting that bedroom fixed. You live worse than Gamlen.”

“That was uncalled for,” Cullen chuckled. Then the meaning of Anton’s words hit him. “What?”

“What what?”

“You said- you’re staying?” Cullen pulled back to look him in the eyes, not even bothering to hide his joy and excitement. “You’re staying here?”

“Not in that hovel you call your quarters. It’s bad enough you literally sleep where you work, I refuse to live in a bedroom that doesn’t even have a proper wardrobe,” Anton sniffed disdainfully. “Regardless, I am nobility and I demand a proper wardrobe.”

“Anton-”

“For a while, yes,” Anton said. “I…I can’t stay here permanently, Cullen, you know that. Not yet. Kirkwall is just beginning to recover. I owe it to my city to stay until it can stand on its own feet again. The Inquisitor has promised aid to the city in return for my help with Corypheus, which will truly help bolster the people’s spirits. I also need to find someone to take over for me if I leave. There’s a lot to get done, but once it’s all over…the idea is very appealing.”

Cullen’s laughter seemed to be torn out of him and Anton was slightly concerned he’d broken the Commander before he was being swept up into a tight embrace that he returned just as eagerly. “Alright, alright, I’ll shut up. I didn’t know selfless acts makes you emotional.”

“You make me emotional, you arse,” Cullen said, basking in the warmth of Anton against him. “And I’m glad you’re staying.”

“Temporarily, mind you. I will try to make trips to Skyhold whenever I can after that. I can’t leave Cormac and Artie alone, Cormac’s a bad influence and Artie is so easily influenced. The Inquisitor has also asked me to tell you that due to my actions in aiding the Inquisition, he will be happy to aid in the rebuilding of Kirkwall by sending in troops and resources. And said troops need someone to lead them, so pack yours bags, you're coming with me.”

Cullen chuckled, “Well, I can’t ignore a direct order from the Inquisitor himself. I suppose I have no choice but to accompany you to Kirkwall. To protect you from the bandits that we both know you could handle with your arms tied behind your back.”

“Cullen Stanton Rutherford, are you questioning the Herald’s orders?” Anton said in an imperial voice.

“Oh no! Forgive me my transgressions, Viscount,” Cullen said, thought he would have sounded more repentant if he could stop smiling.

“I think we need to discuss the repercussions of your words in private,” Anton said, looking around at the various stages of merry-making. “Want to head out now? People are drunk enough that they’d start ignoring decency to approach us. Also, I haven’t seen Fin in a few days and I’m sure he’s beginning to feel abandoned.”

“By all means.”

They slipped from the Hall without anyone noticing and the moment they entered Cullen’s quarters, Cullen locked the door behind him while Anton got the sharper parts of his armor off. “No interruptions,” he murmured, advancing on Anton, “no missions,” he pinned him at the desk with arms on either sides of his hips, “nothing but you…and me…”

A sharp yip made them both jump and they looked up to see a small furry head with big ears looking at them from above the ladder. Cullen could have sworn that the Fennec actually looked offended.

“Aw, did we ignore our little Fin?” Anton cooed, slipping out from underneath Cullen to climb up the ladder. Cullen sighed, subtly adjusted himself and followed Anton up. Anton was already sitting on the floor and playing with the little pup, who was bounding in and out of his lap and trying to nip at his fingers.

“He’s gotten bigger,” Cullen murmured, sliding down the wall to sit next to Anton. The Fennec jumped into his lap as well, yipping at him as he tried to lick his face.

“He obviously won’t be as big as a Mabari, but I think he’ll easily get bigger than the wild Fennecs,” Anton said, resting his head on his shoulder. “Take a good look, Commander, this is going to be your life now.”

Cullen did take a good look. He looked around his room, which would soon look like two people lived there rather than one busy soldier. He looked outside the window at Skyhold, the strains of music from the Hall still audible. He looked at Anton, a warm weight at his side, fingers bumping into his as they pet their Fennec, who was settling for a nap in his lap.

“I am,” Cullen murmured, resting his head on top of Anton’s at his shoulder. Fin was a warm weight on him. “And it’s perfect.”


End file.
